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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160907">Stress Fracture</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee'>Nejinee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>due South</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arguing, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, POV Ray Kowalski, Pining, Ray deserves all the hugs, Sexual Content, Touch-Starved</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:15:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray's got his own unique set of issues. He's got issues with women, issues at work, issues with the man whose life he borrowed now coming back for what is rightfully his, and issues with his partner, who is being too nice to too many people who don't fucking deserve it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Stress Fracture</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>2020: the year I decided to write Due South fic. Go figure.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">See, the thing is, Ray’s never found that <em>home</em> was ever really a <em>place</em>. He had a home with his ma and pa, but that was different. A childhood home could be a stable port or a haunted joint. For Ray it was a little of both. He didn’t need to be reminded of the many ways he’d disappointed his parents: first with the becoming a cop thing, and then the losing Stella thing. <em>That</em> one had hurt his ma, a woman known for her open arms and warm spirit. She and Stella were still thick as thieves (which was another kind of hurt) but the divorce really was the final nail in the coffin for Ray and whatever pride his parents had left in him. Ray was never going to be anything his parents wanted. They were good people, they brought him up right, but they’d never understand. He was maybe a little broken, a little chipped, but he’d accepted that long ago, so it's about time they did too.</p><p class="p1">So calling that house he'd grown up in a ‘home’ was a stretch. It hadn’t been home for almost two decades, for fuck’s sake. His parents lived in Arizona now, anyway, and Ray had moved out, gotten married and left that baggage behind. He didn’t know back in his twenties that his moving out started him down the journey of stitching together his own new, special personal baggage, but that’s life, ain’t it?</p><p class="p1">This other problem of his, this whatever it was, his parents didn’t need to know about that. They’d only be even more disappointed.</p><p class="p1">He didn’t need a home to haunt, but home was important, wasn’t it? Everybody says so. He had an apartment; it was small and in a semi-decent neighbourhood–it was fine. He had food and a tv, and a roof over his head. He could catch up on the Blackhawks and the Bulls, he could stretch out his legs and rest them on the coffee table and have no one gripe at him about it. He could drink beer at 2am and wake up hungover for no reason other than he wanted to. It was his solace, something like a home, he supposed.</p><p class="p1">Then there was the Vecchio household. A big, loud, sometimes obnoxious Italian family that was full of a warmth he couldn’t recognize, so unsure was he of its intent.</p><p class="p1">Vecchio had had it good. The guy was well-fed and well-groomed and had a mother who was an angel, a goddamn <em>saint</em>. And not one of those bullshit <em>‘I had a dream about a naked Mother Mary, I must be a messenger of God’</em> kind of saints, but a verifiable Mother Teresa. Spending Sundays with the Vecchio family had been one of the highlights of Ray’s new gig, a highlight he had <em>not</em> been looking forward to initially, but had turned into something wonderful. When he’d gone back to being plain ol’ Stanley Kowalski, he’d felt a little bereft without the regular meatballs and pasta Tupperware stacked up in his fridge. Initially, the Vecchios didn’t have to pretend he was their son and brother, they took him in and didn’t question it because their Ray was out there somewhere, fighting evil, so why not take care of his replacement? But things had changed. They didn’t have to feed him no more. They had <em>their</em> Ray back. <em>Raimondo</em>. That guy, honestly. Always fucking Ray’s shit up.</p><p class="p1">It wasn’t enough that Vecchio got to slide back into his old life, super easy and with zero problems, but he also got his old job back and somehow, Ray knew, <em>knew</em>, Vecchio would be getting his old partner back, which was the real rub. This was the reason for Ray’s tense stomach, his rippling anxiety. Ray did <em>not</em> want to hand Fraser over.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“When are you heading back to the five-five?” Huey muttered with about as much interest as a kid stuck in detention doing their times tables.</p><p class="p1">“No word yet,” Ray sighed, throwing the baseball into the air and catching it. “Lieutenant’s working on it. Seems they replaced my role there when I left.” God, ain’t that the way these days? Replacing a Kowalski? Easy. Sure, I’m on it! Got ten Louies, a Frank and a Jesse waiting in the wings!</p><p class="p1">“No honour, huh?” Huey said, eyes poring over the folders he was digging through. Then he looked up at Ray, eyebrows set. “Hey, why you still over here? Got nowhere to be?”</p><p class="p1">Ray paused in his ball-handling practice and sat up straight in the chair usually occupied by one detective Dewey. “I don’t got a desk, remember?” He jerked his hand behind him, towards the now familiar sound of Vecchio complaining loudly and verbosely what a hellscape his desk had become.</p><p class="p1">Huey looked up, over Ray’s shoulder, stared for a moment with those tired eyes of his, then shrugged. “Getting replaced sucks, huh?”</p><p class="p1">“Shut up, Huey,” Ray sighed and resumed playing throw-catch.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Ray had been around long enough, years now, to hear about how fantastic Vecchio was, what a fantastic detective and son he was. Vecchio <em>was</em> probably a good guy. He sounded decent and Welsh didn’t mind him so much. He was just so fucking <em>annoying.</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Frase!” Ray hopped to his feet when he spotted the red serge from across the bullpen. “Thought you fell down a sewer grate or somethin’. Where ya been?”</p><p class="p1">Fraser smiled. Boy oh boy, did Fraser have a great smile.</p><p class="p1">“Ray,” Fraser smiled wider, showing teeth, and nodded as he approached, all decked out in his brown boots and buttons and buckles. In his head, Ray laughed about how much of a toy soldier Fraser could appear: stoic, silent and sometimes wooden. His first interaction with the mountie had been rough, no doubt about it. He didn’t think back then that he could fake being<em> this</em> guy’s partner. He couldn’t really pretend to <em>like</em> the guy, could he? The man was a walking Canadian caricature. Ray couldn’t possibly pretend to be okay with the mountie’s methods, could he? It was hard enough pretending he was <em>Italian</em> for fuck’s sake! May his Polish babcia rest in peace.</p><p class="p1">But Fraser slowly grew on you, taking his time, not unlike the lichen he talked so fondly about. And after months of bitter cold and ice, you’d come to realize that a layer of Fraser was hidden underneath your frosty outer coat, just patiently, calmly co-existing. He was too good a guy to dismiss.</p><p class="p1">Ray frowned, realizing too late that he knew too much about lichen to be using it as a metaphor. What had he become?</p><p class="p1">“Mountie!” Vecchio waved, distracting Fraser and causing him to twist on his heel. He smiled. “Ray.”</p><p class="p1">Ray <em>Kowalski </em>ground his teeth. This same name game was getting old real fast. Fraser didn’t need to split his smiles so evenly between them, did he? And he didn’t need to say their names the same, huh? Ray needed to be quick on this. No way was Vecchio getting the limelight.</p><p class="p1">“Come on,” Ray walked over to Fraser, grabbing his own jacket off the communal coatrack. “Sam’s breakfast special ends at ten. We got just enough time to grab pancakes.” He shrugged into the leather jacket. Fraser had turned back to follow him with his eyes.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Pancakes?</em>”</p><p class="p1">Ray froze and he tried to not groan. He turned, shrugging his jacket on the rest of the way.</p><p class="p1">Vecchio loped over to them in his stupidly tailored olive green suit with so much overbearing swagger it was a miracle he could even stand upright. The man was a sharp dresser, Ray could attest to that. It was something he had tried to emulate, tried to <em>be</em> when he filled the other man’s shoes. But Ray was a simpler guy and after a couple weeks of suits and silk shirts and Italian leather loafers, he gave up the ghost and reverted back to his t-shirts, his leather jacket and his jeans. He just couldn’t pull it off without it coming across as forced. It rankled.</p><p class="p1">“You eat pancakes now, Benny?” Vecchio grinned. “Since when? You used to say they were meaningless meal substitutes. Needed more… what was it… Brussel sprouts? Moose guts? Bison leather?”</p><p class="p1">“Ray,” Fraser said in that placating but pleasantly neutral tone of his. “Bison and Brussel sprouts? Really?” He placed his folded hands on his belt, shoulders back, feet spread. God, he was <em>so</em> a toy soldier! “Ray introduced me to Sam’s a while back, and although pancakes remain a mainstay in <em>his</em> diet I have found their interesting buckwheat and maple alternative to be just as nutritional as the average Reuben sandwich. You like Reubens don’t you?”</p><p class="p1">Vecchio laughed that obnoxious laugh of his. He was like a goddamn goose: honking, head thrown back,slapping Fraser’s shoulder.</p><p class="p1">“Only you would compare a Reuben to a pancake, Benny.”</p><p class="p1">“Hey, if we don’t hustle, we miss breakfast,” Ray said sharply, not caring if he was cutting in. “I haven’t eaten yet and I’ve been up since four, Frase.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh no,” Fraser’s brows came to a small point in the middle. “Why were you up so early, Ray?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, Kowalski,” Vecchio said. “What’s stressing you out? Work? A woman? Tax season?”</p><p class="p1">“I was on stake-out last week and I ain’t fixed my sleep schedule yet,” Ray snapped back.</p><p class="p1">He didn’t want to sound bitter, but he’d had to do the job by himself, what with the lieutenant keeping Fraser on-hand to fill Vecchio in on all his open and shut cases.</p><p class="p1">Ray still didn’t have any direction in regard to his job or his status at the two-seven, so he wasn’t in the best of moods these days. He’d made it clear to Welsh that he would like to stay, but the boss gave some waffling answer about budgets, and headcount, and higher-ups. So Ray was waiting. And he was mad about it.</p><p class="p1">“Touchy,” Vecchio said.</p><p class="p1">“Well, why don’t you join us–” Fraser began. Ray kicked him in the shin and Fraser winced.</p><p class="p1">Vecchio snorted, “Nah, I’m good, thanks, Benny. Looks like three’s a crowd anyway.” He didn’t seem too bothered about it, but Ray wasn’t sold on the nice-guy routine.</p><p class="p1">The two of them had faced off the minute Ray and Fraser had returned from the great white north. Sure, Vecchio wouldn’t say it out loud, wouldn’t declare ownership of Fraser and his right of first-refusal when it came to partners, but Ray could feel the energy burning hotly between them.</p><p class="p1">Ray Kowalski was no longer playing the part of Ray Vecchio, that much was clear. Vecchio got to take his life back, got to settle into a home he’d forgotten for a while, while Stanley Kowalski had to dither and flap about like a damn idiot, waiting for the brass to determine if he was even worth keeping around. Didn’t seem to matter that all the cases closed in Vecchio’s absence had been because of <em>him</em> and Fraser. Oh no, those were still <em>technically</em> under Vecchio’s name. God damnit.</p><p class="p1">“Come on,” Ray pushed at Fraser, shunting him backwards out the door. “I’m starving.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, maybe eat a couple extra pancakes for me,” Vecchio said behind them. “Put some meat on those bones, huh?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The ladies liked Fraser. This was not new to anyone who had ever worked with the man.</p><p class="p1">At Sam’s, they always got special treatment: free refills, an extra dollop of cream, sometimes even a side of fresh home fries if Becky was on fryer duty.</p><p class="p1">It was amazing to watch. Ray considered it another kind of sport: Fraser-vision.</p><p class="p1">There was a process. The ladies were startled first by the stupid hat and red uniform, then they would look up and find a handsome, blue-eyed boy-scout staring down at them, and <em>then</em>, well, <em>then</em> Fraser would open his mouth and it would all be over.</p><p class="p1">Ray watched as Fraser handed the laminated menu back to Maria, who smiled with a twinkle in her eye. They knew all the employees’ names. Ray had frequented this place long before he started working at the two-seven but he hadn’t cared one bit back then about who was frying up his bacon or pouring his coffee.</p><p class="p1">Fraser liked to know peoples’ names, liked to address them directly, and make firm eye contact. Who knew that was the first ingredient to the universal love potion? Those Canadians, man.</p><p class="p1">Fraser was polite and he listened. It was horrifying because Ray wasn’t one for either unless he was on the job, and he was doubly disgusted to find that it worked like a <em>charm</em>. Who knew that just listening to a woman, and returning her gaze, and being nice and respectful, would get a guy this amount of immediate adoration? Ray paid attention. He loved watching the Fraser show.</p><p class="p1">Even now, while Fraser rattled off some Inuit snow story about the hunting machinations of the mighty orca, two women at the table across from them were watching him like hawks, their teas forgotten.</p><p class="p1">“–And it goes without saying, Ray,” Fraser went on, “that without strife, one cannot look past their own situation and see the tipping ice floe for what–oh,” Maria reappeared with their coffees and a side of cream in a small jug. “Thank you, kindly.”</p><p class="p1">Ray smirked as Maria blushed and Fraser smiled, lips covering his teeth. Maria nodded and hurried away.</p><p class="p1">Fraser got distracted by the cream and leaned over to sniff at it.</p><p class="p1">“Ten percent,” he murmured.</p><p class="p1">“Uh huh,” Ray said and dropped a some sugar into his own mug, the spoon clinking against the ceramic.</p><p class="p1">“The fat content in this is quite high, Ray,” Fraser said and pulled his own mug of joe closer. “I’d be wary of consuming too much. Your arteries wouldn’t appreciate it.” He was having decaf, of course. Ray’s doctor had said once that he should be cutting back on the caffeine, what with the way it might be contributing to his shakes and his anxiety… but <em>coffee</em>. <em>Come on.</em></p><p class="p1">“You always go around sniffing strangers’ milk?” Ray sipped at his drink with a smile. It was bitter. He put the mug down and reached for the cream. Fraser watched him pour in most of it, creating a vortex of caramel-coloured goodness.</p><p class="p1">“Spoiled milk can wreak havoc on the digestive tract,” Fraser cocked a brow at him and Ray felt <em>fond</em>. “You of all people should know–”</p><p class="p1">“All right!” Ray cut him off with a slash of his hand, “Don’t!” Fraser helping him that one time he’d gotten rancid food poisoning wasn’t the best of memories, if Ray was honest.</p><p class="p1">“Do you boys need anything else?” the other waitress on duty said, appearing out of nowhere. She blinked down at Fraser.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, no thank you, Kate.”</p><p class="p1">“We’re good,” Ray smirked and hugged his coffee closer. The cold outside was bitter on the tips of his fingers.</p><p class="p1">“You sure?” she said, curling her hair over her ear.</p><p class="p1">“Excuse <em>me</em>,” Maria reappeared and squeezed herself between Kate and the table. “One plate of the house pancakes and another English breakfast.”</p><p class="p1">Kate made <em>a face</em> and Ray had to choke back his laughter.</p><p class="p1">Maria smugly slid their food onto the table. Ray wondered idly how much swearing must have gone down in the kitchen to get their meals out so <em>fast</em>. Were other patrons left in the dust?</p><p class="p1">Ray didn’t comment on how Fraser had an extra fried egg and two more rashers of bacon on his plate, while his own pancakes sat unadorned, sad in comparison.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, maple syrup, Ray?” Fraser blinked at him. He did that thing with his mouth where he pouted upwards, like a duck; a question.</p><p class="p1">“Honey,” Ray said and smiled up at Maria. Kate was still close-by, glaring daggers.</p><p class="p1">The two of them rushed off to find Ray some honey. Ah, bliss.</p><p class="p1">While Fraser rambled on about the colour of his fried eggs, Ray looked around.</p><p class="p1">There were any number of eligible, beautiful women <em>dying</em> to get into Fraser’s formal yellow-striped breeches. Just last week Ray watched Fraser completely miss a come-on from one of the most stunning women Ray had ever seen <em>in his life</em>. She’d been tall and willowy, with glossy hair and beautiful lips and Fraser just pointed her in the direction of the<em> post office.</em> The man was an idiot.</p><p class="p1">Well, that’s what Ray had thought initially. He’d thought Fraser was a dolt, or worse: already in a serious, committed relationship. Why that was an issue only became clearer the longer Ray worked alongside him.</p><p class="p1">You see, Ray was terrible with women. He was one part dog and one part desperate. He didn’t seem to have a middle-ground. He was either in it for the wrong reasons, usually sex (and had a tendency to be too sharp, too gruff) or he went completely overboard and would sell his soul for one moment of gentle affection from a woman. It didn’t make sense, but it did add to Ray’s sense of lessening self worth.</p><p class="p1">He’d fucked it all up with Stella and, no surprises here, he hadn’t been able to fix himself up with any kind of woman since. He considered himself to be a bit broken, yeah. He didn’t talk about it, but it must be obvious. They must be able to see it, see the crack running through him. Women did not seek him out. He wondered why the hell Stella ever had.</p><p class="p1">But Fraser, he was a different kettle of fish. He was handsome, <em>so</em> handsome. With his trimmed dark hair and his sharp jawline, he couldn’t be mistaken for just some average joe on the street. The uniform helped a lot, yeah, but Fraser in a leather jacket and jeans? Oof! Ray nearly bit the dirt the first time he saw Fraser in casual attire. The man was a looker and he didn’t seem to know it.</p><p class="p1">It was also his calmness, his confidence, his ability to focus and pay attention to everyone, regardless of their station. People loved that; Women, especially. And so Fraser was constantly being bombarded with these opportunities for dates and sex and he always <em>turned them down</em>. Constantly. Ray didn’t get it.</p><p class="p1">God, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had just touched him, just given him a hug. He was losing it and here Fraser was, saying <em>no thank you</em> to the twelfth offer of random physical attention <em>this week.</em></p><p class="p1">Watching Fraser eat his breakfast while oblivious to the many eyes on him made Ray smile.</p><p class="p1">He was so very good. Such a good man.</p><p class="p1">Which was Ray’s other problem.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Back at the station, it was all business. Welsh was arguing loudly with someone in his office. Ray could see him pacing around his desk, phone cord curled and twisted around everything while he raged and swung his arm about.</p><p class="p1">Ray took note not to interrupt the lieutenant unless absolutely necessary.</p><p class="p1">Fraser came over to where Ray was hanging up his jacket. He frowned.</p><p class="p1">“Why are you sitting at Dewey’s desk?” he asked with that wrinkle in his brow.</p><p class="p1">Ray sighed loudly, dramatically. “Because, Fraser, I don’t got my own desk anymore. Remember?”</p><p class="p1">He waved his hand at Vecchio’s desk, <em>his</em> old desk. Who knew he’d ever feel something for a hunk of wood with a fucked up drawer?</p><p class="p1">Fraser turned and looked at the papers on the desk. It was <em>Vecchio’s</em> mess now, which was different to <em>Ray’s</em> mess.</p><p class="p1">Fraser pursed his lips and took off his hat. He held it to his chest. “I do hope they figure out where you’re to be stationed, Ray,” he said earnestly. Ray’s chest clenched behind his ribs. God, Fraser was so intensely gentle sometimes it made him want to scream.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, you’re back!” Vecchio cried, waltzing into the bullpen like he owned the place. “Nice long leisurely meal there, boys.”</p><p class="p1">“Go fuck yourself,” Ray muttered.</p><p class="p1">Fraser either ignored him or didn’t hear him. “Ray,” he said, turning to Vecchio. “Any word on the witness testimony for Anita Worth’s case?”</p><p class="p1">Ray Kowalski sighed and went to sit on the edge of Huey’s desk. He watched Fraser approach Vecchio, who was rifling through a mound of papers.</p><p class="p1">“I just got that info, Benny-boy,” Vecchio grinned and held up a manila folder. “Turns out it was her cousin. Her <em>cousin.</em> Can you believe this backstabbing motherfucker? Unbelievable,” he shook his head.</p><p class="p1">“Hm,” Fraser hummed.</p><p class="p1">Ray watched the two of them.</p><p class="p1">They made a good team. He swallowed back the lump in his throat.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The other thing about pretending to be Ray Vecchio was that, apparently, the guy was a ladies’ man. Not like Fraser, not in that oblivious <em>‘oh my golly gee no thank you for the offer of sex, ma’am’</em> kinda way. Nah, Vecchio was a <em>ladies man.</em> He could flirt like it was nobody’s business. He wore sharp suits, walked around like he was packin’ a tire iron between his legs, <em>and</em> he could charm a woman so well she wouldn’t even realize he’d clapped her husband in cuffs until it was too late.</p><p class="p1">Except everyone had neglected to share this very important information with Ray.</p><p class="p1">No one mentioned it! Not the brass, not the squad, not even Frannie.</p><p class="p1">Seeing Vecchio work, seeing the man in the zone was infuriating.</p><p class="p1">He obviously had some kind of deal with Anna in records, because she would sometimes hand-deliver files and information direct to his desk and she didn’t threaten to cut his balls off if he ever asked for a favour again.</p><p class="p1">Not that Ray was speaking from experience.</p><p class="p1">Anna was the keeper of the records, the key-holder to the cabinets. She was a nice lady who was also <em>terrifying</em>. Not even Fraser had been able to crack her veneer.</p><p class="p1">And yet.</p><p class="p1">Somehow Vecchio had done it.</p><p class="p1">So he was good with women in a different way. He had these dumb eyes that were kind of … expressive. Maybe the ladies like that? Ah, fuck, who knows.</p><p class="p1">Point is, had Ray known about the womanizing part of Vecchio’s persona, he would have been busted long ago for playing undercover. No way he would have fulfilled Vecchio’s reputation.</p><p class="p1">He hated to acknowledge that it was fucking sad.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“It was <em>my</em> collar,” Ray yelled, “you weren’t even here, Vecchio!”</p><p class="p1">“Who do you think even opened this case, huh?” Vecchio yelled right back. He turned. “I was <em>there</em>, I was on the crime scene three years ago. Memory like a steel <em>trap. </em>Boss, come on.”</p><p class="p1">“Ray,” Fraser inserted himself.</p><p class="p1">“What?” both Rays turned to glare at him.</p><p class="p1">“I think perhaps if you let the lieutenant speak–”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you, constable,” Welsh sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I didn’t know lookin’ after cops would be the same as running a daycare, but I guess you live, you learn.”</p><p class="p1">When he lowered his hand, both Rays were staring down at him. “Now, officers, please, sit down.” Neither Ray moved. Welsh sighed. “Fine. Look, we got the callback from head office.” He inhaled slowly then looked up at Ray. “Kowalski.”</p><p class="p1">Ray swallowed. Fuck, he was finally being reassigned. This was it. “Looks like we found a hole in the budget that needed to be filled. Lucky day, lucky you.”</p><p class="p1">“Huh?” Ray blinked.</p><p class="p1">“We’re working on the paperwork, but it should be approved soon enough.”</p><p class="p1">“Uh…” Ray blinked some more.</p><p class="p1">“I think what the lieutenant is saying–” Fraser said.</p><p class="p1">“I think he got it, Benny,” Vecchio sighed.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Hey,</em> you shut up,” Ray said.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, that’s nice, Kowalski, you’re welcome.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Ray…”</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Listen here, you stuck up piece of–”</p><p class="p1">“Enough!” Welsh boomed and all three of them stood at attention. “Vecchio,” he said sharply. “You will be splitting your cases with Kowalski. Right down the middle. I don’t care if you think each case is your newborn baby, your collar, your criminal, hand ‘em over.”</p><p class="p1">He looked at Ray. “Detective Kowalski, I’ll work on getting you your own desk. Lord knows Huey’s been in here enough complaining my ear off about your ass scuffing his tabletop.”</p><p class="p1">Ray grinned, “Thank you, sir.”</p><p class="p1">“And constable?” Welsh went on, looking past the detectives to the mountie by the door. “Please, please, for the love of God, keep these two morons from tearing their throats out all over my nice, clean linoleum.”</p><p class="p1">“Yes, sir,” Fraser nodded. “I’ll do my best.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“You know, Ray, you don’t have to fight each other,” Fraser said later in the bullpen. “I think you’d both make–”</p><p class="p1">“If you even hint at the word ‘partners’, Benny,” Vecchio snapped, “I will bring you to church with my family again and sit you down between my aunt Gloria and my cousin Sharlene. You remember them, right? Taught Frannie all she knows?”</p><p class="p1">Fraser’s mouth snapped shut at that.</p><p class="p1">Ray narrowed his eyes. “I am not partnering with this shmuck,” he griped.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t believe the lieutenant means to–”</p><p class="p1">“Because if that happens, I will throw myself onto the nearest railway, Frase. God as my witness, let the trains run me over and split me in half, I ain’t doin’ it. Don’t try me.”</p><p class="p1">“Who the hell you think they’re gonna partner you with then, smart-ass?” Vecchio slumped down into his chair.</p><p class="p1">Ray’s eyes flicked to Fraser, who was watching Vecchio.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not a goddamn fortune-teller.”</p><p class="p1">“You did take an extended leave of absence,” Dewey muttered as he walked by. “You need to get back into the job.”</p><p class="p1">“Hey, yeah,” Huey said from his own desk. “I don’t see the rest of us getting leave to visit great ol’ Canada.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s not–” Ray fumed, turning on them. “It wasn’t a fucking vacation, you assholes.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s right,” Vecchio said, “it was what, a case? A Canadian case? A Canadian elopement?”</p><p class="p1">“Hey, I had his <em>back</em>,” Ray snapped. “Where the hell were you anyway?”</p><p class="p1">“Ray, please,” Fraser sighed. Ray knew that one was meant for him. If he sighed, Fraser was sighing at him. Because Ray was an idiot.</p><p class="p1">“Whatever,” he griped.</p><p class="p1">“Detectives.”</p><p class="p1">The squad all turned and looked up at Welsh, who was standing, glaring from his office doorway. “Maybe the three of you need to work this little arrangement out yourselves and stop wasting police time. What do you say?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” Huey chuckled. “Maybe you should wrestle over who gets the mountie.”</p><p class="p1">Dewey snorted.</p><p class="p1">Welsh didn’t say anything, but he did shrug before heading back into his office and slamming the door.</p><p class="p1">Ray could feel the heat rising up behind his ears.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“I ain’t fighting him for you, Fraser,” Ray said, storming across the parking lot. Jesus <em>Christ</em>, it was <em>cold.</em></p><p class="p1">“Ray, slow down,” Fraser called.</p><p class="p1">“I ain’t doin’ it!” Ray kept going. “I earned my right to stay here. I put in the hours! I deserve to stay and he don’t get to make me feel bad about it!”</p><p class="p1">“Ray,” a gloved hand caught his elbow and Ray stopped, his own breath clouding around his face. “You’re overthinking this. There is no fighting involved. I don’t technically even work for Chicago PD, remember?”</p><p class="p1">“UGH!” Ray cried, “That just means they might actually pair me up with that jackass!”</p><p class="p1">Fraser was in front of him now, his stupid hat casting a shadow over his face. His lips were pursed. “Ray is a good man,” he murmured. “You’d make a great partnership. You two are more similar than I think you realize.”</p><p class="p1"><em>I doubt that,</em> Ray thought angrily.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“God, we need to get you a new apartment, Fraser,” Ray said that night.</p><p class="p1">The bachelor pad was less ‘pad’ and more ‘derelict den of sadness’. Ray looked around at the mattress on the concrete floor. There were two locked crates, probably for Fraser’s three shirts, two socks, and one pair of undies. A red, folded pair of long johns sat on the mattress.</p><p class="p1">“Now, Ray,” Fraser sighed. “I’ve told you, this is good enough for me. It’s all I need.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Good enough.</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, yeah,” Ray sighed. Fraser didn’t need luxury. Fraser didn’t have enough money <em>for</em> luxury. He was paid less than stellar by the consulate and he didn’t waste a dime on satellite TV or even extra heating during the winter. The man would make do with a lantern and some blankets. It was nuts.</p><p class="p1">“It’s too cold to stay here tonight,” Ray murmured. Dief pushed at Ray’s legs and forced Ray to move his feet so he could stand between his knees. Ray stared down at the wolf. Fraser was busy putting the one bag of groceries away in his tiny kitchenette. Frost was coalescing on the window pane. The temperature was dropping already. Ray shivered inside his own jacket.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll be fine, Ray.” Fraser appeared at his side. “I found the post-it.” He held up the phone number a suspect had scribbled down for them.</p><p class="p1">Ray grinned, “Amazing. Trust you to save a stupid piece of paper.”</p><p class="p1">Fraser smiled back. “Dinner?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, let’s go out.”</p><p class="p1">“Pizza?” Fraser added on.</p><p class="p1">“I know a place,” Ray smirked and Dief whined loudly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“I can’t stay here, Ray,” Fraser said an hour later from Ray’s sofa.</p><p class="p1">“Uh huh,” Ray murmured around a gooey slice of pepperoni pizza.</p><p class="p1">“I’m serious,” Fraser said. He was attempting to gather up the cheese strands falling from his own slice. “I’ve lived in worse conditions.”</p><p class="p1">“Tell me more about what it’s like to live under ten feet of ice, Frase. Go on.”</p><p class="p1">Fraser flushed and looked at Ray, who raised both brows.</p><p class="p1">“It’s… I don’t need to be coddled.”</p><p class="p1">“It’s not <em>coddling</em>, Fraser,” Ray said, picking up the remote to lower the volume a bit. “It’s fucking minus a million degrees outside. You don’t even have heat in your place. You’re here already, might as well stay the night. Plus, Dief wants to stay.”</p><p class="p1">The wolf was sitting on the lone armchair, watching them.</p><p class="p1">“Diefenbaker is not a reliable source, Ray.”</p><p class="p1">Ray laughed. This was nice. It was like old times. Before… well, before Canada. They never talked about it. Maybe Fraser thought it was some traumatic memory or something, but Ray thought about it a lot. He remembered spending those few weeks trying to get back to civilization with the bare supplies on their backs. Thank God for Fraser or they might not have survived at all.</p><p class="p1">Ray had so many dreams about sinking into deep drifts of snow and never coming out, but they always ended with someone reaching in and pulling him free. There was always warmth at the end of the cold burn. Fraser never talked about the cabin either. They’d hunkered down in that one lonesome place for a week, trying to wait out the worst of the weather.</p><p class="p1">It had been so fucking cold Ray thought he’d get gangrene on his dick. But he hadn’t needed to worry.</p><p class="p1">They’d survived it. They’d spent days huddled together for warmth, with Fraser’s stupid stories to keep them going. Ray couldn’t get the memory of waking up under layers of blankets and furs and finding a sleeping Fraser right beside him, warm and strong and solid and just…there.</p><p class="p1">Fraser was the only man alive whom Ray could trust, really trust. Fraser would go to the ends of the earth if it meant keeping someone safe. Even if that someone was Ray. Once back in Chicago, Ray had to try and forget what they went through. Tried to forget the intimacy, the two of them surviving something harrowing together. But he couldn’t, nor would he want to forget.</p><p class="p1">It was burned into his brain, tattooed onto his mind.</p><p class="p1">Fraser’s big warm hands keeping his fingers from freezing. Fraser’s big warm body staving off the icy chill.</p><p class="p1">Nothing happened. They didn’t get down and dirty or anything, but something inside Ray clicked into place when he made it home. He’d needed that intimacy, that closeness. God knows no one went out of their way to keep him close.</p><p class="p1">Except Fraser.</p><p class="p1">Fraser who was warm and gentle and loving in a way that literally no one deserved. Even now Fraser was dressed in an oversized cable-knit sweater, jeans and bare feet because it was slanderous to imply he’d wear socks indoors even if it was the dead of winter. He was <em>too good</em> for anyone. He was a mish-mash of opinions and thoughts and memories that had nothing to do with Ray, but meant more than anything <em>to </em>Ray.</p><p class="p1">Goddamnit.</p><p class="p1">Ray knew the man was trouble the minute he met him. He should have stayed away because <em>now look.</em></p><p class="p1">“You all right, Ray?”</p><p class="p1">He blinked and refocused his eyes. Fraser was watching him from the other end of the sofa. The hockey was paused for commercials.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, yeah,” Ray said and got back to his pizza. “Just zoned out there a sec.”</p><p class="p1">Fraser smiled.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“At least I never <em>shot </em>him.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, we’re bringing up that old chestnut, huh?” Vecchio bobbed his head in the way that Ray had come to mean <em>shit is going down, motherfucker.</em></p><p class="p1">“Still true, though,” Ray said, folding his arms across his chest. His holster was digging in under his armpit but he was too annoyed to fix it. “Fraser, I ever shoot you in the back?”</p><p class="p1">“No, Ray, but–”</p><p class="p1">“I did it to save him from a witch-devil!” Vecchio barked. “What would you know, you weren’t even there.”</p><p class="p1">“I still haven’t ever shot my partner,” Ray said with a flourish of hands.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, yeah, what, your partners shoot <em>you</em> instead? I can see it.”</p><p class="p1">“Stuff a granola down your throat, Vecchio,” Ray bit out.</p><p class="p1">“What?” Vecchio frowned, “What is that? Some kind of Polish thing?”</p><p class="p1">“He means you need more fibre, Ray.” Fraser said calmly. “Clean out-er-the plumbing, so to speak.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh yeah?” Vecchio said, eyebrows rising. “How classy of him.”</p><p class="p1">Ray could <em>feel</em> the hair on his head bristling. “It’s cos you’re so full of shi–”</p><p class="p1">“Ray,” Fraser said slowly, making eye contact. “No need to be redundant.”</p><p class="p1">“So you agree with me? He’s–” I waved an arm about.</p><p class="p1">“No,” Fraser said, tilting his head, “I just don’t see the point in repeating yourself.”</p><p class="p1">“Heh,” Vecchio pulled his keyboard closer and began banging at the keys like a deranged chimp. “Redundant.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Goddamnit,” Ray hissed and let his head roll back and hit the cold wet concrete. “Fuck, that hurts.”</p><p class="p1">“Everything’s going to be fine, Ray,” Fraser said calmly. He didn’t look so calm though. His eyes were wide, his jaw tight. Ray smiled. Fraser was worried he’d die out here, blood pooling, making a mess of the sidewalk. <em>What a sap.</em></p><p class="p1">“I’m fine, Frase,” Ray said raspily. “Just a cut from a toothpick.”</p><p class="p1">“You were <em>stabbed </em>with a serrated eight-inch blade, Ray,” Fraser said sternly. “It is <em>not</em> fine.”</p><p class="p1">Ray chuckled and winced. “Vecchio got him though, right?”</p><p class="p1">Fraser nodded, mouth tight. “Tackled him.” Ray could hear Vecchio yelling, even from over here.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“What do you mean the ambulance is eight minutes away? We got an officer down, you bozos! You get that? In the line of duty. You’re lucky he was even there to stop the motherfucker! Swear to god, no love for the heroes ‘round here.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">Well. Maybe Vecchio wasn’t a complete asshole <em>all</em> the time. The man himself appeared over Fraser’s shoulder. “Hey, how’s he doin’?” He looked genuinely concerned.</p><p class="p1">“I’m fine,” Ray grit out. He felt cold.</p><p class="p1">Fraser noticed and immediately started shrugging out of his navy wool coat. He threw it over Ray. Didn’t stop the cold ground from seeping into Ray’s back, but the gesture was nice. “You don’t look fine,” Vecchio said. “You idiot, jumping the suspect like that. What did you think was gonna happen?”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Ray!</em>”Fraser said sharply, eyes stricken.</p><p class="p1">“Sorry, Benny,” Vecchio said. “Oh, you hear that? Sirens.”</p><p class="p1">Ray smiled as wide as he could then promptly passed out.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The stitches itched now, but nothing hurt anymore.</p><p class="p1">Ray inspected the doctor’s handiwork in his bathroom mirror. He had his arm up and his torso twisted so as to get a good look at his side.</p><p class="p1">“Does it hurt?”</p><p class="p1">Ray looked up and caught Fraser in the mirror behind him. “Nah,” he said, dropping his arm. “Actually feels pretty good.” He flexed his arms out, elbows first. Nothing twinged anymore.</p><p class="p1">He turned to Fraser, who was waiting with a cup of coffee. Ray took it gratefully. “Are there m&amp;ms in here?” he sniffed the cup.</p><p class="p1">Fraser smiled, “Perhaps.”</p><p class="p1">Ray followed Fraser to his bedroom where he’d been napping since he got back from the hospital. It was good to be home. He paused in the doorway. “Frase, what are you doing?”</p><p class="p1">“Er,” Fraser scratched his chin as Ray looked over the piles of clothing on the bed. He’d only been gone long enough to shower, what the hell?</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorting your laundry,” Fraser said. “You’ll need fresh clothes come Monday.”</p><p class="p1">Ray sipped his coffee shirtless and in his sweatpants. What had his life become?</p><p class="p1">“Okay,” he accepted whatever the hell this mother-henning was, and sat down on the corner of the bed.</p><p class="p1">“I got quarters in the cabinet above the sink,” he murmured, watching Fraser work.</p><p class="p1">“I know, Ray,” Fraser smiled while he rolled up Ray’s underwear.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“You go that way!” Vecchio yelled and ran down the dark street. “Catch ‘em up in the alley!”</p><p class="p1">“Right,” Ray turned and sprinted.</p><p class="p1">“Ray!” Fraser’s footfalls followed him. “Ray!”</p><p class="p1">“Come on, Fraser, if we don’t move, then Tennyson’s gonna find a fuckin’ car or bicycle, or somethin’ and then he’ll book it. We’re so close to nabbing this guy!” He turned a sharp right and ran down the dark alley between the two apartment buildings. He leapt over boxes and trash and around empty dumpsters.</p><p class="p1">“Ray, you shouldn’t be exerting yourself!” Fraser barked.</p><p class="p1">Ray halted at the mouth of the alley, gun held tight between his hands. He peeked around the corner, glanced down the street.</p><p class="p1">“Damnit, he musta gone further South.”</p><p class="p1">The radio at his hip crackled,<em>“Officers six-fourteen and seven-eighty have Tennyson. Dualpo and Greaves on the scene.” </em>Ray’s shoulders relaxed and he slumped against the brick wall. “Sweet mother of Mary.”</p><p class="p1">“Ray!” Fraser still sounded mad, so he opened his eyes.</p><p class="p1">“What?” He said sharply, “Fraser, we’re on call. What did you want me to do, lie down and take a nap while the rest of the force runs around searching for a mass killer on the loose?”</p><p class="p1">Fraser was in his face, all bristling anger and sparking eyes.</p><p class="p1">“The last time you almost got killed, Ray,” he hissed.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not dead though, am I?” Ray rolled his eyes and stood up. He holstered his gun.</p><p class="p1">“You can’t be so reckless all the time,” Fraser said sternly. Ray’s gaze flickered over the mountie’s furrowed brows and clenched jaw.</p><p class="p1">Oh.</p><p class="p1">“You were worried,” he smiled slowly. “Hey, Frase, I’m fine.”</p><p class="p1">“But you could have–” Fraser exhaled hotly before he turned away, then turned back sharply. Ray didn’t have a moment to think before Fraser’s gloved hands clasped the sides of his face and he leaned in and pressed his lips to Ray’s.</p><p class="p1">Ray blinked.</p><p class="p1">Fraser pulled back, red-cheeked and somehow still angry.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, Ray, I shouldn’t have–”</p><p class="p1">“Fuckin’ get in here,” Ray gasped and yanked Fraser closer by the lapel of his coat, desperation and excitement exploding from him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Turns out Fraser’s not as calm as you’d think. Not when it came to Ray, it seemed. Once they’d gone through the motions of filing reports, giving statements, getting through a debrief, dinner and a cab ride home, then the gloves came off. Fraser pushed Ray through his front door and managed to lock it behind them all while mashing his lips with Ray’s.</p><p class="p1">Ray laughed and yanked Fraser down the hall, towards the bedroom.</p><p class="p1">“Been waiting forever for this,” Ray mouthed against Fraser. God, Fraser tasted good. Smelled good, too.</p><p class="p1">“Me too,” Fraser gasped out when Ray’s hand tugged at his belt.</p><p class="p1">Ray couldn’t figure out Fraser’s stupid godforsaken uniform, so he let the mountie put on something of an impromptu strip show. It wasn’t even very sexy, because Fraser had to carefully unbuckle and unbutton himself from what could only be described as a canadian torture device.</p><p class="p1">But once the serge was gone, and the boots were kicked across the bedroom, it was fair game for Ray. He shoved Fraser to the bed and crawled over him like some kind of feral raccoon.</p><p class="p1">“Mmm,” Ray hummed, kissing up Fraser’s jaw.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, Ray,” Fraser gasped when Ray’s cold fingers dug under his henley, touching skin.</p><p class="p1">“You okay with this?” Ray pulled back, panting. Fraser’s hair was a mess and his hat…it must have fallen off at some point. God, was it at the station? Had the squad noticed the way he and Fraser had been devouring one another with their eyes?</p><p class="p1">“Very much,” Fraser smiled and flipped them suddenly, throwing Ray with an ‘oomph!’ onto his back. Fraser leaned over him, all shoulders and dark eyes and Ray felt his blood sink south, filling his cock. Jesus Christ, was this really happening?</p><p class="p1">Fraser pulled his suspenders off with ease and then tugged at his henley, throwing it aside. Ray licked his lips. He didn’t know he’d ever have a thing for guys, or guys’ pecs, but damnit, Fraser might just be the one exception he was willing to make. Danny Fortino is tenth grade didn’t count. Fraser unzipped his pants and then leaned over Ray. He was big and warm and familiar. He kissed Ray and it felt like sinking into a warm bath. Their tongues played for a bit while Ray undid his own jeans and squirmed to get his t-shirt off.</p><p class="p1">“Fuck,” he winced, arms all caught up.</p><p class="p1">Fraser chuckled and sat back. He pulled Ray into a sitting position and kindly helped Ray undress.</p><p class="p1">Ray did not miss the way Fraser’s underwear was tenting through the open V of his trousers.</p><p class="p1">Shit, Fraser was hot for <em>him.</em></p><p class="p1">Ray felt a rush of pride and joy and he grinned wide.“You really wanna do this, huh?” he said.</p><p class="p1">“Very much,” Fraser smiled and began tugging at his own pants. Except he was kneeling over Ray’s legs and wouldn’t have the mobility to get out of them completely. So Ray helped.</p><p class="p1">Ray made sure to get his hands around Fraser, to grab at his ass, to feel his cushy butt. Fraser had an ass to write home about. It was plump and firm from all the running and jumping he did over fences and cars and shit. He also had a serious set of thighs. Here was a man who grew up riding horses, for sure. Ray kind of envied Fraser’s physique, but he himself couldn’t help the way his body looked.</p><p class="p1">Sure, he was wiry and tall but he’d been told he had ‘good bone structure’ so really, what else did he need? Seeing Fraser naked was like seeing God. Ray spread him out over the bed and just looked him over.</p><p class="p1">“Um,” Fraser said.</p><p class="p1">“Just,” Ray held up his hand. “Let me look.”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Ray</em>,” Fraser frowned.</p><p class="p1">“I’m just taking it all in, in case we never do this again, or something. Or I get hit by a bus, you by a rampaging caribou.”</p><p class="p1">Fraser frowned. He sat up sharply, wrapped a hand around the back of Ray’s neck and tugged him down on top of his body. Fraser kissed him for all he was worth, licking and lapping at his mouth, panting and murmuring between each press of lips. Christ, Ray was going to come just from kissing. He got really excited when two big hands found <em>his</em> ass and shoved at his jeans. They’d been stuck around his hips, too much trouble to remove in the fracas.</p><p class="p1">“It’s so–” Fraser said, kissing him some more. “So good to get to touch you like this.”</p><p class="p1">“Heh,” Ray chuckled and shifted his legs, balancing on one knee so Fraser could pull one jean leg down, then the other.</p><p class="p1">“I want to touch every part of you, kiss every inch of skin, Ray,” Fraser held him close, hands rubbing over Ray’s back and ass. God, it was almost overwhelming, this amount of physical contact. It really had been ages. Ray felt dizzy with it. He rubbed his cock against Fraser’s hip. He shuddered and licked into Fraser’s mouth. Fraser made a sound like he was being punched in the gut. It was an amazing sound. Fraser’s hands pulled and pressed Ray to him, their cocks rubbing together in a way that was thrilling and new and so fucking hot Ray thought he might actually die from it.</p><p class="p1">“Frase,” Ray panted, rubbing himself harder. “Fraser, I wanna suck you off.”</p><p class="p1">“<em>What?</em>” Fraser gasped out loud.</p><p class="p1">Ray pulled back and stared down at the mountie. “Yeah, you know? Blowjob? They do that up north, don’t fuck with me. Not that I’ve ever actually done one, but I been thinking about it. Like, a lot. A whole lot. I could do it, if you want. Now I’ve seen it. You got a nice fat cock, Frase. Real nice. I could stick it in my mouth, let me suck for a bit, see how it–”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Ray!</em>” Fraser exhaled through his teeth, eyes wide and then, suddenly, he was shivering, fingers digging into Ray’s hips, and his eyes closed tight and…oh wow.</p><p class="p1">Fraser came all over his own belly in ribbons.</p><p class="p1">Ray’s eyes were wide and his heart thundered just beneath his throat. God <em>damn</em>. Fraser was fucking <em>amazing.</em></p><p class="p1">Ray bent over him. He leaned in real close to Fraser’s flushed and panting face. He smiled when Fraser finally reopened his eyes.</p><p class="p1">“That good, huh?” he whispered. “Been a while?”</p><p class="p1">Fraser looked at him like… like… well, like no-one ever had before. Like Ray was the sun in the sky, or the moon on the horizon. Like the way Fraser felt about the wide open snowfields and the deep green forests.</p><p class="p1">Jeez, Ray did not deserve that look.</p><p class="p1">“Ray,” Fraser said gently, hands curling around Ray’s back. “I am complete putty in your hands.”</p><p class="p1">Ray felt himself flush. Damn, he really hoped this wasn’t a one-time thing because there was no coming back from a look like that.</p><p class="p1">“Really?” he murmured softly.</p><p class="p1">“Absolutely,” Fraser whispered, leaning up for a kiss, his one hand wrapping around Ray’s cock.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The next morning Ray woke to an empty bed and his heart sank through the mattress and to the floor. That is, until Fraser appeared, naked, at the doorway, coffee in hand.</p><p class="p1">“Good morning, Ray,” Fraser said, coming around to put the mugs on Ray’s one and only bedside table. He’d been alone long enough not to need another one.</p><p class="p1">“You’re still here,” Ray stretched, arms going wide, legs flexing. He didn’t miss the way Fraser’s eyes roved over his body. That felt good. Nice boost to the old ego to find out that whatever it was Ray had going on, wiry limbs and messy hair and all, was exactly what seemed to turn Fraser’s crank.</p><p class="p1">“Where else would I be?” Fraser said.</p><p class="p1">Ray shrugged. He felt tired but not exhausted. Sated in a way he’d missed for a very, very long time. “Not here, I guess.” Fraser leaned down and kissed Ray’s cheek in a way that was so gentle, so intimate, it almost made Ray tear up.Affection really could fuck a guy up, huh?</p><p class="p1">“The lieutenant called,” Fraser murmured against his skin. “Says we need to report in.”</p><p class="p1">“Ugh, Fraser, please do not mention the boss’ name in my bed ever again. Boner-killer.”</p><p class="p1">Fraser chuckled and sat up. He twisted to look at the very obvious boner Ray was sporting under the blankets. He raised a brow.</p><p class="p1">“I woke up like that.”</p><p class="p1">“Uh huh…”</p><p class="p1"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">See the thing about Ray is that his real problem isn’t finding a building, an apartment, a house for a home.</p><p class="p1">Ray’s the sort who unfortunately finds a home with a person. He’s <em>that</em> guy.</p><p class="p1">He was homeless for a while, until he found Stella. And then he could be anywhere in the world, on any case, doing anything, but he’d always have her to come home to. He put all his eggs in one basket, so to speak. After the divorce he was back to being homeless. Nothing to come home to, no one to care if he ever did come home. And that sucked balls.</p><p class="p1">That’s the Stanley Kowalski problem: needing love from someone who couldn’t be a home, couldn’t be a haven.</p><p class="p1">But Fraser, he was different. He was homeless too, probably had been most of his life. He could go anywhere, do anything, but no one would know where’d he’d gone, no one would worry if he never made it back. So he was perfect for Ray in a way that Stella never was. Stella wanted a life separate to Ray, a career, goals and everything else on her terms. She had a right to all of that. Fraser’s life was already Ray’s life.</p><p class="p1">They were each other’s homes. They could roll in the dirty streets of Chicago, trail the snowy plains of Saskatchewan, or lie together in a cabin made for one. It didn’t matter so much anymore if Ray ever really found a place to call home. He’d accepted that. He’d be fine either way so long as he had Fraser.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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